Many years ago, I was at the University for the start of my third year, and I found myself at a mixer. That was one of those casual events with a DJ and vinyl records and a dance floor, where people arrived solo and tried to meet new friends. Across the room I saw a cute girl standing all alone. She was a petite brunette, and that seemed promising. We made eye contact, she smiled, I approached her, and soon we were dancing together.
Her name was Joyce. At first the music was fast rock & roll, which meant that we could only chat briefly between songs. I didn't have any interest in dancing with anyone else that night, and apparently neither did she. As the evening wore on, the DJ inserted more and more slow music, and the quieter music and closer physical proximity meant we could talk while we were dancing.
Joyce told me she was 19 and had just arrived at the University as a transfer student for her second year. Her parents had pressured her to switch from a small Boston-area college to this much larger Midwestern university that they themselves had attended. She had a cute round face with a ready smile, short brown hair, and expressive brown eyes. We connected comfortably, both verbally and physically
During the slow dances, Joyce's arms wrapped around my neck and my arms hugged around her back. Her face rested against my shoulder, our bodies pressed together, and chatty Joyce opened up to me in a surprisingly candid way. She told me about her recent college experiences and her anxieties about transferring to a larger, presumably more academically difficult school.
I mostly just listened to her. My mind was also occupied by the feel of her petite body in my arms, her small breasts against my chest, and a delicate floral scent floating from her hair into my nose. As you can imagine, I struggled to control my erection that kept threatening to be noticeable to her. I didn't want to embarrass myself or to startle her.
Joyce eventually talked about her boyfriend -- "Ex-boyfriend," she corrected herself -- whom she'd met one weekend in Boston, and a month later she had traveled to the University of New Hampshire to spend the weekend with him. "That's where I lost my virginity," she told me, matter-of-factly. "We didn't leave his room all weekend. We went through a lot of rubbers." She giggled. I pondered how many was "a lot."
Now she had my full attention. My penis stood at attention, too. Joyce was nothing like my previous girlfriends, who were either virgins or close to it, and who were hesitant or anxious or shy about sex to one degree or another. And now here was Joyce, dancing physically close with someone she'd met less than two hours earlier, calmly chit-chatting details about her one-partner sex life with her breasts glued to my chest and her belly pressed unmistakenly against the lump of my erection.
Near the end of the evening, Joyce asked me one more intriguing question. "Do you know where I can get a prescription for BC pills?"
Initially I was confused. That term was new to me. "Ummm, 'BC pills'?" I asked.
Joyce chuckled. "Birth control pills. You've heard about them, right?"
Now I was embarrassed and was sure I was blushing. "Of course I know about them. You should make an appointment at the Student Health Service. I'm told they freely give out prescriptions for the pill to any co-ed who asks for them."
My interest in Joyce was definitely piqued. Not only did she have a past that included a positive attitude about her past sexual activity, however brief, and not only was she expressing a clear intention to have sexual activity in the future, and not only would that activity probably be bareback, which was my own past experience, but here she was giving me a broad hint that her future sexual activity may well include me!
At the end of the evening, I walked Joyce to her dorm. She'd arrived at school too late to find an apartment. She lived in an all-female dorm with a sternly glaring house mother in the lobby, so all we could manage was a long kiss, an exchange of phone numbers, and a promise to get together Really Soon.
Over the following few weeks Joyce and I occasionally saw each other. We had a few study dates in the library, and a few more times we randomly encountered each other on campus and chatted. Once she visited the apartment that I shared with my three roommates -- four guys in two bedrooms. All in all, Joyce and I didn't have privacy for more than a few minutes of heavy making out.
The conversation we had at the mixer about sex never repeated itself, and I didn't raise the subject. I just rolled with it and decided to let things progress at her pace.
And progress it did. Late one morning Joyce telephoned me at my apartment. We had a brief chat, then she got to the point. "Remember that prescription I wanted?" Well sure I remembered. "I got them," she continued. "Been on them for a month. What do you say we give them a test drive?"
Do chickens have beaks? I told her that my roommates would be in class until just before dinner, and Joyce replied she'd be there within an hour.
I masturbated to take my edge off and give me some hope of not embarrassing myself by coming too quickly with Joyce. Less than an hour later she was at my apartment door, and five minutes after that we were making out on my bed.
I peeled off her clothing, rather eagerly as I recall, and quickly shucked off my own clothes, and then proceeded for a full tour of her body. First was her busy mouth and tongue. Her lush red lipstick. Her sensitive neck. Her firm B-cup breasts topped by perky pink nipples, proudly stiff. Freckles too numerous to count. A ticklish tummy. A round bubble ass, smooth legs, rich red toenails. And a lovely thatch of dark brown pubic hair. It was uncommon in those days for a woman to shave her muff.
"Can I taste you?" I asked, and she rolled onto her back and my mouth dove in, savoring her mild fuck-me scent and musky taste and exploring every succulent nook and cranny and fold and ridge, every one of her Pretty Little Pink Parts.
At least they were pink at first. Her juices were soon flowing profusely, and her thin inner labia swelled thicker and more crimson, splitting wide to expose her small clitoris that peeked out and begged for attention. All the while Joyce moaned and groaned and squirmed, and my hands held her hips that were undulating in rhythm with what my mouth was doing to her vulva.
"Do you like to do that?" she whispered to the top of my head amidst her nonverbal noises. I hummed a positive response. "Oh oh just like that," she murmured, "Lick my pussy. Do you like how I taste?" I was too busy to do anything but give her another approving hum. My flat tongue swiped repeatedly upward, finishing on her clitoris with swirling circles that got progressively firmer as her arousal ratcheted higher and higher.
My goal was to try to get her to climax -- ladies first! -- before I got inside her and lasted who knows how long. Neither of my first two intimate girlfriends had been orgasmic, despite my best enthusiastic and diligent, albeit inexperienced, efforts. Girlfriend #3 had only been occasionally orgasmic, though usually only from oral. I was hoping Joyce would be less inhibited.
Joyce's noises signaled she was getting close. I accelerated my swipes and suddenly she interrupted my efforts with an upward tug of my head. "C'mere," she told me, "I want you inside me." That was the point of the test drive, wasn't it? Who was I to object?
I slid up her body until I was on top of her, supporting myself on my forearms, my hips nestled between her thighs. My erection was hard as a proverbial rock. Joyce's knees raised and her legs embraced mine, her heels tucking in just above my knees. Her breaths were quick and shallow, her face flushed and her forehead damp. We stared at each other's face as my rigid shaft found her cleft, and I stroked up and down between her slick labia, bathing my flesh in her juices.
Hands-free, I centered my cockhead on her entrance, tentatively testing. Joyce growled "Don't tease. Go in." I nudged my hips forward. Her opening had a distinct finger-width circle of muscle that resisted my cockhead's gentle push for a fraction of a second, then popped inside. She gasped and began to pant and wiggle beneath me. That only got me harder. "Deeper," she extorted me, "Go deeper."
I was more than willing to do just that. I penetrated into her silky grasp, inch by inch, feeling the muscle ring guarding her entrance gripping deliciously around my shaft as I sunk into her creamy heat. I was exhilarated by her vagina's smooth snugness, sinking in deeper and deeper, until my cockhead nestled buried into its upper reaches. Her vagina was shorter than my previous lovers, and it made me feel like I had a monster cock.
I looked down to the sight of my shaft splitting her chubby labia and disappearing inside the magic of her vagina. My cock gave an involuntary pulse, and her kegels responded with subtle nibble of awareness of its presence. "Oh my God, you are hard," she murmured, maneuvering her hips to adjust herself around my stiffness. "I feel so full." I was overwhelmed with pleasure sensations. Joyce's legs now hooked together just above my ass, her arms wrapping around my shoulders, she held me tight.
I began to give her my cock with languid full-length strokes, and our eyes continued to be glued to each other. Joyce's vagina was only the fourth my penis had encountered, and as I recall hers felt more muscular, perhaps because of the size and grip of her kegels, or perhaps just because her whole body felt more muscular, more athletic. And her slickness was amazing. She was dripping wet.
Joyce became progressively more verbal in between her quick breaths. "Do you like to fuck me?" she asked, staring at my face with wide open eyes.. "Do you like my pussy?"
"You feel incredible," I managed to respond.
